SAYONARA, THIRSTY LION (&C.)...

Yes, “Syonara at the Thirsty Lion” went well—all the performances have been going well lately. Audience liked all the songs—I enjoy keeping people in stitches—even though most of them were there as fans of other performers (and of course voted for them—doesn’t matter). I got to do two encores, too (a good reason to be last on the agenda)—“I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas” (because both Eric and my daughter requested it) and “Pole Dancing for Jesus.” Didn’t sell any CDs, but did trade one with another performer. Daughter and her friend Kristine were only going to stay for one song, but ended up staying for the entire performance, which was nice. Best song? “I’m Giving Mom a Dead Dog for Christmas” is an instant and consistent crowd-pleaser, of course, but the other one people remarked on was “The Resurrection Blues.” I was asked if I have songs on iTunes. I don’t. Maybe I should. Met a lady there who wants to collaborate. We’ll see. We talked for quite a while after the performance, and I have a fair idea of her musical tastes (a lot like mine, minus the country music), but I still havent heard stuff that she’s done. (Gave her a business card—always have business cards—so she can contact me.) She says she has a good singing voice, with about a 3-octave range, and is interested in doing harmonies on some of my songs. That’s definitely doable. In fact, I could think of half a dozen songs where I’d rather have her singing than me. “Rotten Candy” was meant to be sung by a girl; so was “Dead Things in the Shower” and “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You” (though that latter is deliberately androgynous and can really be sung by either a guy or a girl). “I Want a Man for Christmas,” too, is a girl’s song, and so is “Invitation to St. Patrick.” Of the musications, April Mattson Johns’ “Family Portrait” needs a girl singer, too. So there’s some stuff to do that might be a good test. Last four of those need to be re-recorded anyway—the recordings I have were done on the Tascam with me singing and playing rhythm, lead and bass, and one might say I got what I paid for. I’ll use Jim Loughrie’s shop studio if I can; he’s gotten rather good. His latest recording, of one of his songs sung by Sedona Marie (with Sedona playing flute, Jane fiddle, Ken lead guitar, Jim himself on drums, and Michael Dinan doing harmony, is (as Craig Imm, the Dodson Drifters’ sound engineer, used to put it) “tasty.” Recorded base tracks (rhythm guitar and vocal) today at Jim’s shop for “Sleepover at My House.” I still don’t know if it’s a good song—it hasn’t been tried out yet on a live audience—but I had to get it out of my head so I could work on something else. Like I told Jim, it was either his place or mine—and if it was recorded at his place, he could maybe do things with it. (He thinks it needs a kazoo lead. He thinks a lot of my songs need a kazoo lead.) Thoughts on collaboration: Full-blown collaboration (as opposed to the “one-night stand” variety where I’m just musicating someone else’s lyrics) is a daunting prospect, because you’re rummaging around inside each other’s heads. I have done it four times and two of those resulted in a (my opinion) decent product—“Dead Things in the Shower” (co-wrote with Bobbie Gallup) and “Born Again Barbie” (with Scott Rose). Those two plus “Drag Them Suckers In” were done long-distance, by e-mail, and I think I’d really rather do it that way—gives me more time to think (in case I need it—I may not). Doing it in person (which is how the abovementioned lady would like to do it) feels a little too immediate and rushed. I realize that’s how the professionals in Nashville do it, but I’m not them (and I’m also not very impressed with most of their product). And of course, history may enter into the reluctance, too. The only collaboration I’ve ever done in person was with the late Jeff Tanzer, who was lead guitarist for the Dodson Drifters; we wrote “Ballad of Mount St. Helens” together, after the mountain erupted in 1980 (it was for a contest), and the band recorded it and we sent off a tape (that’s how it was done back then). We didn’t win. Jeff and I usually wrote in competition with each other, like Lennon and McCartney, and the products were uniformly better done that way. (Also like Lennon and McCartney, we didn’t say who wrote what. And we had a habit of performing each other’s songs.) Joe

SOMEBODY'S RULES FOR LYRIC WRITING...

I ran across another “rules for writing” article. I’m always interested in those: I want to know if I’m “doing it right”—but I also tend to critique what they’re saying. So many of the rule-propounders claim, “Do what I do, and you’ll be a success” and this one was no exception. The rules in this case were for writing LYRICS, which is of particular interest to me since words is what I do. Because I have a limited voice range, am not particularly good on the guitar and am still mostly tone-deaf, I consider the music simply a delivery mechanism for the words. Here’s the rules: 1. Come up with a great title. People often say my titles are good. I think that’s an argument for letting the audience tell you what the title is. I rarely identify a song by title—I want to see what other people call it when they request it. And they’ve come up with some good titles. 2. Be specific. Particularly applicable to country music, which is what I write. No matter how high-falutin’ the message, it’s got to be expressed in terms of real (though not necessarily believable) things happening to real people. 3. It’s the music, stupid. Good melodies, in other words. I think I end up being distinctive because I insist every song sound different. 4. Writing is re-writing. Yes, but I’ll do most of my re-writing before I ever write anything down. I also insist on outside input—one shouldn’t write in a vacuum. (Poor lighting in a vacuum.) 5. What you say counts. They’re saying “be different” and I agree. Be saying either something new or something old in a new way. That’s where the dead animals come in. If you’re expressing it in terms of roadkill you are probably saying something different. 6. Step away from your piano or guitar. I never pick up the guitar until after I have the lyrics and melody all worked out. Most of my writing takes place in situations where I not only can’t use a guitar, I can’t even use a pen—so I have to memorize everything. 7. A song is not a poem. Sometimes it is. I’ve set Edgar Allen Poe and Dr. Seuss (and lesser-known poets, too) to music. “Oral tradition” stuff—poetry meant to be performed, not read—can be musicated easily because it has a beat, rhymes frequently, and has repeating parts. 8. Your lyrics must sing. “Poesy,” in other words. I regularly adjust lyrics so they’ll “sing good.” Doesn’t mean melodies have to be appropriate to the lyrics—sometimes dissonance is good. I like my songs about death to be upbeat and happy-sounding, for example. 9. Need I repeat—repetition works. Because modern pop music does it? Lots of repetition is not necessary to get people to remember a song. In “When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You,” the hook occurs only four times in nine chorus-less verses. It’s still memorable. 10. Know your genre. I have done that. Nashville particularly is rife with rules about how you’re supposed to write, and I mostly ignore them (just like most successful writers of country music do). I do follow a mantra I learned from a newspaper editor I worked for: “You have to know the rules before you can break them effectively.” So… I’m doing all that (mostly—with a couple exceptions those are good rules), but the music industry still has not beat a path to my door (and realistically is unlikely to). “Do this and you’ll be successful” probably isn’t true. Promotion and name familiarity enters into the picture a lot, too, I think—and I’m still far from being a household word. (“Toilet paper” is more of a household word than I am.) The above rules may make one a better writer but they do not make you a more famous one. Joe

WORKIN' MAN BLUES (OR IS THAT A TWO-STEP?)...

Just a list of things to do, while I rest. The job is tiring, and I have been sleeping a lot—which I shouldn’t: I have way too much to do, and just reduced by a third (by getting a job) the time available to do it in. (Got to start setting an alarm clock again.) On the plus side, I’ve been paid twice, and next month’s mortgage payment is covered, and I managed to afford new tires for the old truck, too. Backscratcherz has “Justin,” the giant computer I bought last summer that has a defunct processor, and with luck I’ll have him working soon (and not too expensively). “Justin” was custom built (for someone else) for online gaming, and has tons of RAM and speed, and is probably ideal for both my music and my graphic-design work. And that’ll free up “Lazarus” the laptop to mostly do just square dance calling (before I fill up his hard drive with other stuff). I am slowly working down the list of things I said I’d do once I had a job. Ran a couple of errands today before work: I needed to make sure the Arts Center is available Wednesday night for square dance caller practice before work, I needed to make sure whether a PA system Charlie set up will work for the Tillamook Estuaries Partnership’s “Bounty on the Bay” event next weekend, and I needed to go see Victor in Rockaway about a band for the Rocktoberfest. And yes, it was nice to be doing something that wasn’t work. Makes me feel I still have a life. The gig at the Thirsty Lion Tuesday night will help, too. Tuesday, I collect the information for my column, then head for Portland to my last square dance caller class, and then to the Thirsty Lion for the gig. Grocery shopping, too, and I want to see the vacation rental guy—he hasn’t answered my e-mails. Wednesday, office hours at the Arts Center, record the base tracks for “Sleepover at My House” at Jim’s shop (which I didn’t do last week), and caller practice with my guinea pigs before I go to work. Thursday before work I’d like to try a one-on-one marimba practice with Larry (he’s offered—and I haven’t been able to make the Sunday afternoon practices for almost a month, because I’ve been working). I’m assuming my schedule will default ultimately to three swing shifts and two graveyards (what the person preceded me was doing before she quit and they hired me), with just Fridays and Saturdays off. I would like the occasional Monday off, to attend Planning Commission meetings (since I’m on the P.C.) and to cover City Council meetings for the paper (extra money, there); if I had every Monday off, I’d spend the remaining ones at that new jam session at Kelley’s Place, the newest tavern in town. If the graveyard shifts start starting at 11 p.m. instead of 9 p.m., it’d make square dance caller practice on Wednesday nights easier (and on alternate Wednesdays, I could practice with the band), and on Thursday nights I’d be able to sit in for a little bit with the musicians at the Tsunami in Wheeler (once the new Tsunami opens—it’s not open yet). All that is probably in the future; things have not settled down schedule-wise yet. Biggest casualty of the Working Man Syndrome is being unable to just go play music for fun, which I used to be able to do five nights of the week if I wanted (and I usually wanted). I am now working every single one of those nights. On the plus side, I am grateful to have Saturdays off (and am glad I planned every gig this summer to be on a Saturday). It’s really not much different from two years ago, when I was working full-time out of town and only got to come home on weekends. The frustrating part is simply that I’m in town, this time, and get to see all that stuff happening around me. I expect I’ll get over it. I like the job too much. Joe

DYLAN NIGHT POST-MORTEM (&C.)...

Dylan Birthday Night was good. The audience said they liked all the songs, but I think we did the bluegrass protest song “When the Ship Comes In” best. (I do like “Absolutely Sweet Marie,” though.) Bunch of artists there; I think I was the only one able to do the songs without a music stand (I deliberately left all notes at home, and did everything from memory). Didn’t get to hear Ken or Jane very well—I think my guitar was too loud—and what they were doing was a whole lot more interesting than what I was doing. I’m just a rhythm guitarist, after all. (Had one elderly lady tell me afterwards, “You look so serious when you’re singing. But I know you’re not. You’re just a good actor.”) Got to play guitar, too, on two Dylan songs that Eric Sappington was performing, “Billy” (from Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid) and “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door.” Next one of these will be Fred Basset’s birthday (Fred owns The Mercantile building), sometime in August, I think, after Fred gets back from his performance tour in British Columbia. And tentatively we’re going to do the same thing: everybody learn and perform Fred songs. (Wonder if somebody will do that someday for my birthday?) Blog statistics, again… Over 7000 people have reportedly read the thing over the past four years, maybe a hundred or so in the last week. Last week, the majority of readers were from Russia (41) and the Ukraine (20), rather than the U.S. (24); I do hope those folks aren’t expecting to learn English reading this, ‘cause if they do, they’ll end up talkin’ funny. They should probably imitate the Latvians and give up and learn English some other way. I had received some comments, too—a few personal ones (some did say “Thanks for helping with my English assignment”), but most were of the spam variety, pitching everything from Viagra to (surprisingly) shoes. Two were in Russian. (Thanks—I think.) The comments have all been consigned (by me) to whatever Hormel Hell is reserved for online spam. Latest call from the Coventry Songwriters over in England is for songs about SIN. Which prompted one of Those Questions: Has anyone ever tried to put all of the Seven Deadly Sins in a song? (For the record, they are Lust, Gluttony, Envy, Wrath, Hubris, Sloth, and Despair. I remembered six of them off the top of my head. Thank you, Catholic school. And strung together like that, they have a really nice beat.) I suppose it’d have to be a love song, with those kind of sentiments. One does go through all of those in a relationship. An “I never wanted to go to Hell till I met you” song, perhaps. Upcoming: There’ll be another open mike at the 2nd Street Market Friday, June 15, and their big Bluegrass Jam Saturday, June 30. There’s another Friday I’d like to go to the Market, too—when the Neah-Kah-Nie Choir is performing. Fridays, though, the band is going to have first call on my time—I don’t have any other evenings left, really, after work is done with me. I’ll go somewhere else only if we’re not practicing. I’ll spend one Saturday in June out of town: on June 23, I get to attend my first GOP Congressional District meeting. They’re supposedly deciding whom to send to the national convention which will nominate Romney, and I’ve already said I’m not going and am not interested. Joe

THIRSTY LION (&C.)...

The poster, notice and Rap are done for the Thirsty Lion performance next Tuesday, May 29. It’d be nice if some folks came (though folks really never have come to one of these); I expect to start working Tuesday nights come June (and June comes in, like, a week), and then I won’t be able to go to the Thirsty Lion for quite a while. So this is the Joe Equivalent of “the last waltz.” And it’ll be “the last waltz” no matter how many (or how few) people come. For the Thirsty Lion, I plan to do: One Gas Station—mod. fast folk I May Write You from Jupiter—fast bluegrass Cuddle in the Darkness—slow two-step Doing Battle with the Lawn—fast bluegrass The Resurrection Blues—deliberate (but short) blues When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You—fast bluegrass (and also short) In the Shadows. I’ll Be Watching You—slow two-step One folkish, three bluegrass, two two-steps and a blues. Two new; the rest, not—but I don’t think I’ve played any of these here before (and this’ll be the 11th time I’ve appeared at the Thirsty Lion). I also revised the Rap for Saturday’s Dylan Night show at The Mercantile in Beaver. (Still playing the same songs—but I was informed one of the songs was copyrighted in 1966, three years later than I thought it was. Changes what I’ll say about it.) We’ll practice one time for the Dylan show Friday night—it’s the only time I have. Curse of the employed, I guess. (I was told by someone, “Well, now you’ve joined the 1%.” If the 1% are those who have jobs—and the way things are going, it might be—yes. I’ve been using the phrase.) Second-to-last caller class was last night (there’ll be one more, on the 29th, from which I’ll have to leave early to go to the Thirsty Lion). I can tell I’m improving at this but I still need lots more practice. I’m going to be on my own for getting it from now on—and I’ll have to get it mostly locally because I’m not able to travel much. Business tips from Daryl this time—because the calling schtick is a business, and that does mean tax deductions until the time you start to turn a profit. Should I set it up as a separate business or bring it under the “umbrella” of Outside Services Ltd. (which needs to “get businessed” this year)? I don’t know. Got the schedule for the Southern Oregon Songwriters’ Summer Concert Series, and I’m not on it; that’s because nobody told me they were signing folks up. I don’t know if it’s their fault or my fault (probably mine), but it does demonstrate that I’ve been out of touch too long. I haven’t gone south to visit in nearly a year. I hadn’t figured on traveling much this summer, either—having paying work doesn’t mean I’m making a lot of money—but having from 7 a.m. Friday morning until 3 p.m. Sunday afternoon free (except for sleeping) does allow the time to go somewhere on the weekend, if I have somewhere to go. Elsewise: I got in touch with “Brother Bill” Howell again, after several years—he and I are the last surviving members of the Dodson Drifters—and it may be possible to go to some bluegrass festivals this summer. That’d be fun. And fellow musician and songwriter Roger MacDonald had a house fire yesterday—and lost just about everything (he did save his guitar); a bunch of folks are putting together a fund-raising dinner. With music, of course. Think “RogerAid.” Joe

THIRSTY LION (ONE MORE TIME)...

Post-getting-a-job cleanup: I told Eric John Kaiser, who runs the Songwriter Showcase at the Thirsty Lion on Tuesday nights, that I will cease having Tuesday nights off at the end of May, when my square dance caller class in Portland is over (I will end up having Monday nights off instead). So Eric’s asked me back to perform Tuesday, May 29, the day after Memorial Day (and the night of my last class). I’ll be doing this solo; it’d be nice to have backup, but I’m not going to ask (I did ask Denise but she can’t come)—I know everybody else is busy, too, and this ain’t a paying thing. What to play? How about: One Gas Station—mod. fast folk I May Write You from Jupiter—fast bluegrass Cuddle in the Darkness—slow two-step Doing Battle with the Lawn—fast bluegrass The Resurrection Blues (maybe)—deliberate (but short) blues When I Jump Off the Cliff I’ll Think of You—fast bluegrass (also short) In the Shadows, I’ll Be Watching You—slow two-step I’m pretty sure I haven’t done any of these at the Thirsty Lion before (I like to do material host Eric hasn’t heard). All are easily performable solo, with the possible exception of “The Resurrection Blues,” which may be way too short without those lead breaks (I’ll have to try it). “Cuddle in the Darkness”: is serious—and I usually don’t do serious songs—but it went over surprisingly well at the 2nd Street Market. So, one folkish, three bluegrass, two two-steps, and a blues. That’d work. I also don’t know how appropriate for the audience some of these are. “One Gas Station” is talking about rural-life stuff, and this is a mostly urban audience, I think—and “In the Shadows” is admittedly creepy (a stalker’s love song?)—I’m including it mostly because I like it, not because anyone else does or would. And I need to make sure I start off with something slow, ‘cause this is a tavern. I’m dealing with people with artificially reduced brain capacity. I have all the songs down for the Dylan Night show at The Mercantile, I think. Been working on “When the Ship Comes In,” singing it at every spare moment, and I haven’t had to look at the lyrics for a while. Like a lot of Dylan’s material, it’s got a lot of words (four long verses with no chorus, just a tag line) and the imagery is a little disjointed. On the plus side, Dylan did do a lot of internal rhymes (good mnemonic tool, there), and the words (for a change) pretty much stick to the beat. I’d earlier learned “Absolutely Sweet Marie” (a forgotten gem, that one), knew “Love Minus Zero” by heart, and only had one new verse to master for “Leopard-Skin Pillbox Hat.” Band has (in Dropbox) music for the first three of these. Upcoming: June 15 (Friday) is supposedly another open mike at the 2nd Street Market; I’d like to go, mostly because I missed the last one (band practice). And Saturday, June 30, the Market is reportedly having an all day bluegrass jam—and again, I’d like to go. Need to fit more music into my schedule. Didn’t get the research assistant job with the League of Oregon Cities (thereby proving, I guess, that they’ll reject me for everything, not just city-manager jobs). Still waiting on two more city manager jobs (where I figure I have a chance because the League is not doing the recruiting). Not that I exactly need a job right now—I have one, thank you, and I like it—but these others were in the pipeline, and I’m going to let them run their course. Joe

"THE RESURRECTION BLUES," AND OTHER STORIES...

Got Jim Loughrie’s recording of “The Resurrection Blues,” and it’s nice. Jim, Jane and I tweaked it a little at Jane’s house tonight. Three leads on the song, by Jim on dual harmonicas, Jane on fiddle, and (surprise!) Jim on kazoo. Posted it on Soundclick (it’s at http://soundclick.com/share.cfm?id=11577540), and also sent it to the Coventry songwriters, who were reportedly interested. Album material, definitely; it’s a very professional-sounding recording. I also got Jim’s recording of “Spend the End of the World with Me,” and I like it too—but it needs something: a “non-whiny” lead, I think, or at least a “non-whiny” instrument besides my rhythm guitar. I’ll plug the recording into the Tascam and try adding a banjo, and see if that helps. Since it’s ragtime music, a banjo strummed Dixieland style (about all I can do on a banjo besides play real simple leads) might be enough to fill out the sound. (And here I am talking like a sound engineer again. I am really not competent to give advice on this stuff. I just happen to be all I’ve got.) Tentatively, I’ll go to Jim’s shop this coming Wednesday and record base tracks for “Sleepover at My House.” It could use a full band treatment, with bass (Jim knows a bass player, that he’s been using in his Johnny Cash shtick), drums (which Jim can play himself), a “whiny” lead (probably Jim’s harmonica—I don’t think Jane wants to hear the song), and a “non-whiny” lead (me on lead guitar, I think—I can do a simple lead, and that’s all the song needs). I have no idea whether the song is any good; I haven’t tried it out on a live audience (and audiences it might be appropriate for are a little limited—the song is a bit risque). I just have to get it out so I can be done with it. The song was Jane’s idea, really; she wanted to write one (and still should). The imagery she described—full moon, pet rabbit, comfy wood stove—just triggered ideas of my own. (And in mine, the rabbit has to die, of course. I hadn’t written any dead rabbit songs yet. And I figured as long as we had a wood stove in the song, we might as well use it to cook the rabbit.) My work schedule is slowly starting to settle down; past two weeks (and again this week) I’m working two swing shifts (8 hours each) and two graveyard shifts (10 hours each); come the end of May, when my square dance caller class in Portland is over, I think I’ll start having Monday nights off instead of Tuesdays. I should still have Saturdays free because employer understands I have gigs. (Of course, employer is still shorthanded. They really need an additional front desk person, and don’t have one—that’s why those 10-hour shifts. Once they get one, who knows what my hours will be?) The above work schedule does mean that playing music at the Tsunami on Thursday nights and at the Rapture Room on Sunday nights is out for the foreseeable future. So is marimba practice on Sunday afternoons. I will be able (come June) to practice again with the band Monday nights, though. For everything else, we either do Schedule Triage or cram the activity into a shorter slot. (I did e-mail Eric and tell him my last chance to play at the Thirsty Lion in Portland is going to be the next two weeks. Those are the last two Tuesdays I’m going to have off from work.) I didn’t do much with my Friday off except sleep and go to band practice; lots to do tomorrow. Four songs to record for Jane and Ken for the Dylan Night show at The Mercantile in Beaver (and that’s just one week away), and I still need to learn the lyrics for one of them (Dylan songs tend to have a whole lot of words, no choruses and no specific pattern—they’re not easy to memorize). We may have only one chance to practice this week, and it’ll be a short one to boot because of the work schedule. Joe

DOING DYLAN AT THE MERCANTILE...

There’ll be a “Dylan Night” show Saturday, May 26, at The Mercantile in downtown Beaver (some have argued The Mercantile is downtown Beaver), and I’m one of those invited to perform. Nothing but Dylan songs—it’s his 70th birthday, I understand. I have only three Dylan songs I know by heart and can sing decently, and I can’t do one of them because Fred and his girlfriend Sonya are performing it, and it looked like the performers were getting four songs apiece, so I beset myself to learn some more Dylan. Obscure Dylan, preferably—I’m partial to the obscurantist folk-rock stuff, that no one listens to (or admits to listening to) any more. And I found one. Hight “Absolutely Sweet Marie,” it’s got a great beat, and an almost country-style chord progression; a number of rock ‘n’ roll bands (and at least one heavy-metal band) have covered it, and the haunting (and haunted) tagline, “So where are you tonight, sweet Marie?"—Dylan wasn’t doing choruses much in this period—is reminiscent of the Reba McIntire hit about the telephone. And of course I want to do that one with the band (Jane on fiddle, Ken on lead guitar, and Clint on standup bass). The band is interested in coming; that probably means I’m doing only two songs, and Ken is singing two, and that’ll be fine. In that case, I want to do “Absolutely Sweet Marie”—I’ve just about got the lyrics down—and “Love Minus Zero/No Limit,” also from the folk-rock period, which is my favorite Dylan song. Deathgrass is going to have some gigs this summer—we’ve been asked back to the Wheeler Summerfest (paying gig), and as entertainment chairman for Garibaldi Days and the Rocktoberfest and the Relay for Life, I want us to play all those, too. (And the Rocktoberfest pays, too.) It’d be good to have some new material, though—I don’t want us coming off as un-innovative. Songs already in the repertoire I’d like us to continue doing are: Dead Things in the Shower—fast two-step (and our trademark opening song) Tillamook Railroad Blues—deliberate blues For Their Own Ends (Southern Pigfish)—folk-rock Un-Easy Street (Stan Good)—deliberate two-step (and our standard closer) I could add “Bluebird on My Windshield” (which we’ve done before—fast bluegrass that we can do with a good trucker rhythm), and maybe “The Resurrection Blues” (if they don’t think it’s too controversial); Diane Ewing’s “Alabama Blues” would be a nice substitute for “Distraction” (also by Diane), but I don’t want too many country songs. I’m the only country musician in the band; the rest are heavy metal, rock, classical and jazz, and I try to accommodate what they like. Coaster is doing eight of my songs: Pole Dancing for Jesus—slow, sleazy Gospel Naked Space Hamsters in Love—fast bluegrass The Abomination Two-Step—fast polka Cuddle in the Darkness—slow two-step Duct Tape—mod. tempo country Hank’s Song—deliberate two-step Simple Questions (Odd Vindstad)—Norwegian rockabilly Armadillo on the Interstate—slow & sleazy I don’t want to repeat. Since both bands are likely to be on a lot of the festival stages this summer, I don’t want them doing the same songs. Got to be different. (I would like to hear what Deathgrass does with “Pole Dancing” and “Simple Questions,” though.) Working another 36 hours this week, in four days. The only chance I’ll have to play music will be Friday night, I think—and there, it appears I have a choice between City Hall and a new open mike at the 2nd Street Market in Tillamook. Not sure which to go to—maybe I’ll flip a coin… Joe

THOUGHTS ON THE "GOING TO HELL" ALBUM...

At this point, the 13 Reasons Why Joe is Going to Hell album looks like this—seven “religious” songs, and six that I think of as the Bad Guys Series (things you will go to Hell for). Not in order, yet: RELIGIOUS: Can I Have Your Car When the Rapture Comes?—slow & sleazy Pole Dancing for Jesus—slow, sleazy Gospel Song for Charity (and Faith, and Hope)—fast bluegrass The Resurrection Blues—mod. fast blues The Abomination Two-Step—fast polka Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus—deliberate Gospel Born Again Barbie—rockabilly BAD GUYS: The Dead Sweethearts Polka (serial killer)—fast polka In the Shadows, I’ll Be Watching You (stalker)—slow two-step Dirty Deeds We Done to Sheep (bestiality)—Johnny Cash-style rock ‘n’ roll Angel in Chains (suicide)—country death metal When They Die, I Put Them in the Cookies (cannibalism)—fast bluegrass Electronic Love (Internet porn)—slow & sleazy “Born Again Barbie” was co-written with Scott Rose, and I’ll need to keep track of him so I can send him his share of the copyright royalties; rest of the songs are by me. I didn’t include “The Ten Commandments” on the list, because it is pretty seriously religious (except for that eleventh commandment about the condoms), or “I Broke My Girlfriend,” which I wrote for the Broken Record album we gave Beth Williams after she broke her leg (and a few other things), because it sounds like it condones abuse (though it doesn’t), and I do have standards, low though they may be. I’ve never performed that song in public, and don’t intend to. There are a few of the songs that are already on existing albums, but there are reasons to do them again. “Bungee Jumpin’ Jesus” was on the Santa’s Fallen album, but I’d like to re-do it; at the time, I hadn’t figured out the reason people were having problems with the break is they wanted instinctively to “default” to the music from “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” (and as soon as we started doing that, nobody had problems any more). The “Cookies” song is on the Maslov Project CD, Songs For Kids, and the Coventry songwriters group in England put “In the Shadows” on their Best of… CD, but both those were Tascam recordings, and I know the songs will sound better with a real band of good musicians. How to record these? With Mike Simpson’s studio still not in business, my best shot may be Jim Loughrie. His equipment is pretty good, and he knows how to use it—and he’s done a bunch of recent recording up at Jane’s, taking advantage of the lovely acoustics. I’ll see how “The Resurrection Blues” comes out first. Any standard combination of musicians would work for most of these songs, with (of course) both a “whiny lead” and “non-whiny lead.” For “Dirty Deeds,” though, I do want a rock ‘n’ roll sound, and “Angel in Chains” has got to be heavy metal. Do I need to use the same band for all of these? Not necessarily. I might as well start working on a cover design now; I will need one, and like last time I know it’ll take a while to get it exactly right. One possibility: a gaggle of Byzantine religious icons, Photoshopped so they’re all playing electric instruments. Joe

2ND ST. MARKET POST-MORTEM...

Yes, it was good. Our 22 songs filled exactly two hours with a 10-minute break, and there were people who came specifically to see us. And we got tips. (Hadn’t seen one of those new Presidential “silver” dollars before. We got five of ‘em.) I think I have some of the Celtic fiddle tunes down now. I had sheet music for the jigs, and didn’t look at it at all; I remembered the Irish polka (easy, admittedly—only two chords), and I had finished my “Every dog eats bacon” mnemonic for “The Breton Waltz,” and it works—I could remember the every-three-beats chord changes. Got complimented on the variety of music—a little jazz, a little ragtime, some bluegrass, some country, some ethnic Irish, Ulster and Breton, and some rock ‘n’ roll—and that we could do it all pretty seamlessly. I think the audience liked most of the songs of mine that we did. Odd Vindstad’s “Simple Questions” is a crowd-pleaser, as is (surprise) “Cuddle in the Darkness.” I expected them to like “Hank’s Song,” “Duct Tape,” “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” “Naked Space Hamsters in Love” and “The Abomination Two-Step”—those have all been performed before—and they did. “Hank’s Song” we started slow, and then gradually sped up (because I had started it too slow) to the point where it was really cooking—and it worked well that way. Clint would like to record us playing my songs so he’s got a recording of us to practice with, and I think I can do that with my equipment. I’ve got five inputs on the mixer (and shouldn’t need all of them for us), plus two more on the PA amp itself (ditto—I’d use one for the vocal microphone), and run the package into (I think) the “line in” port on the Tascam. So we’d have the sound mixed but everybody would be playing live. (Have to do that because I’ve got only one set of headphones.) I’d need the laptop with me so I could squirt each song to the laptop and then erase the file on the Tascam—its little digital-camera-chip “brain” can hold only one song at a time. I won’t do that this week. The band are practicing twice a week still, but I’ll miss both practices this week because I’ll be working those nights. Another 36 hours at the hotel this coming week, but different shifts—I still don’t have a regular schedule. (Got my first paycheck, though. Now I really feel employed.) And an idea. When I mentioned the “upcoming” 13 Reasons Why Joe Is Going to Hell album at the Arts Center, a fellow gave me afterwards a “Get Out of Hell Free” card, modeled after the old Monopoly “chance” cards; he said he got it from a local print shop. I could do those—easily, in fact. A lot of musicians are pre-funding albums these days—I’ve seen about four from people I know just in the past couple of months. Those who pay the pre-funding up front usually get some kind of goodie, even if it’s just an autographed album. I could give those who pre-fund the 13 Reasons Why Joe Is Going to Hell album a “Get Out of Hell Free” card. (I could even autograph it.) It’s not a new idea. Medieval popes did this, to raise money for various projects; it was called “selling indulgences.” For a large donation, you could be forgiven in advance for sins you hadn’t committed yet. It was a very popular program among the European nobility. I rather doubt most of those medieval donors really expected forgiveness—it was quite a cynical period; it may have been more an excuse to give (and get) money, like the U.S. tax code. I would assume (and hope) none of the recipients of my cards would be expecting to get out of Hell free. I’m sure not. I have an advantage: I can produce an album very inexpensively (I have done so twice)—I can get the recording done for hundreds rather than thousands of dollars, because we’ll do it “Patsy Cline style,” live rather than layered; I’ll do the artwork myself (getting professional design work for free, in other words); and I know where I can get the best deal on the manufacturing. So I wouldn’t need a lot of pre-funders, really—I’d be doing it mostly for fun and to get attention. Could I combine this with the Song-a-Month Experiment (which I still haven’t implemented)—release one of those songs every month, then the whole album at the end? Probably. Joe

SCHEDULE TRIAGE...

First time this week I didn’t have to do anything between two work shifts except sleep—so that’s what I did. (I won’t get to do that tomorrow—I have to do a photo shoot for the paper.) Since I’m in in-constant-motion mode these days, being awake means I have Stuff To Do. Last shift for the week at the hotel tonight, and Sunday afternoon it starts again—another 36 hours crammed into four days (actually nights). Thus far the Private Life hasn’t suffered too badly, though Schedule Triage has forced some things to be ruthlessly compressed. I managed marimba practice last Sunday (though I won’t this Sunday—I have to work), practice with the band Tuesday night (only night I had free), and square dance practice with my guinea pigs Wednesday night before work (I’ll do that next week, too). The 2nd Street Market gig is Friday night and we are ready—everything we did Tuesday night at practice sounded really good. I haven’t got to play music for recreation at all in at least two weeks; I know that’ll start to bother me after a while, but not right now: right now, I’m enjoying the feeling of being in constant motion, and of having a purpose, even if it’s a small one. Wrote my first parody in a long time (well, since last year): the marimba band is learning “Ghost Riders in the Sky” (it’s actually pretty easy, with only three chords that are held for long periods of time), and the suggestion was made that if we had lyrics with a nautical theme, we might have a shot at being entertainment for some of the fishing events that gravitate to this area of the Coast. So it got re-made as “Ghost Sturgeon in the Bay.” It’s got dead fish in it (of course), and the political statement about the Bay silting in isn’t (I hope) too obvious. I’m still dinking with “Sleepover at My House,” though it may be mostly done. I need to try it out on a live audience, and I’m not sure where that’d be. I haven’t gone to City Hall in Garibaldi for three weeks, to the Tsunami for two, or to the Rapture Room for one; my schedule has (or has had) me working on all those nights. There is a new jam session starting up at Kelley’s Place here in Garibaldi, and I would like to go to that—but again, it’s going to depend on when I’m working. “Sleepover” is probably limited to being performed in tavern venues because it is a tad risque. I would like to record “Sleepover.” Perhaps at Jim’s shop? I ran across another of those expert-in-the-music-business articles that said one should never refer to recordings as “draft” or “demo.” If they’re not good, he said, don’t mention them at all; otherwise, assume the recording is the way it’s supposed to be and act accordingly. Of mine, well, let’s say I have a number of recordings that still need some work before they’re the way they’re supposed to be. Jim says he’s almost done with “The Resurrection Blues” (I think all he’s missing is Jane’s fiddle) and I am anxious to hear what he’s come up with. Found and entered another contest (for free, again); it’s put on by a voice teacher, who was looking for The Perfect Wedding Song. Sent her “Always Pet the Dogs,” which fit most (but not all) of her criteria (and I told her so). I’m not expecting to win—what would I do with voice lessons anyway?—but what I was primarily interested in was keeping my name out there. Like music publisher (and fellow songwriter) Bobbie Gallup said, “It’s not whom you know—it’s who knows you.” And now I’m off to work. (I love being able to say that…) Joe

ARTS CENTER SHOWCASE POST-MORTEM...

Bay City Arts Center’s first Performer Showcase was a big success. Nice crowd, the performers were all good, and there was quite a variety. A lot of support, I think, for doing another show. (And the audience drank all the coffee, ate all the cookies, and left behind a bigger “take” in donations than the Arts Center’s seen in a long time.) Some folks were surprised there is that much really good talent hanging out in Tillamook County. (And those were just some of the people I know. I bet there’s plenty more I don’t know.) Suggestion was made that Oregon Public Broadcasting’s “Oregon Art Beat” ought to be invited to the next one. So do I know what I’m doing? Not really. Some things worked out right. With two weeks to prepare for the event, the newspaper did run a story and photo, the radio stations promoted it (and I don’t think I had anything to do with that), got a professional-looking poster out promoting the performers (a couple of whom were not well-known); refreshments were upstairs (so the audience wouldn’t go far); the performers all had four songs each, knew ahead of time what order they were on in (in order of complexity, from my end), had space on the refreshment table for their CDs, and all came early for sound check. Having Jim Nelson on hand to be sound engineer (so all I had to do was emcee) was a lifesaver. I want to make sure to do all those things again. Our band (Jane, Ken, Clint and myself) performed “Pole Dancing for Jesus,” George Gershwin’s “Summertime,” Odd Vindstad’s “Simple Questions” and David Wilcox’ “Rusty Old American Dream.” Second and fourth of those sung by Ken, first and third by me. The audience liked “Summertime” best, I think, but folks were actually singing along to “Simple Questions.” Hadn’t expected that at all (but the song had only been performed in public once before—at daughter’s wedding reception). Jane and Ken also did four Celtic pieces as a duo, and of those “Swallowtail Jig” is a consistent hit—every foot in the place was tapping (and there were a lot of feet). We’ll have one more opportunity to practice before Friday night’s gig; that’ll be Tuesday night—I’ll forego my class in Portland. Rap is done; still need to do a poster. Meeting last Friday with Joel from the Buffalo Kitty Band, and they’re in for all three of the summer concerts: the Relay for Life, Garibaldi Days and the Rocktoberfest. I’m starting slowly to put together a schedule. Jim Loughrie’s Johnny Cash Band (Mark on bass, Barry on drums, Ken on lead guitar, and Eric on blues harp) would be a great addition to the Rocktoberfest if they’re willing (and if they can do about an hour’s worth of stuff). I have a price from Jim for a sound system for Garibaldi Days, and was asked by the Relay for Life people if I could score one for free for the Relay, and I’ll try—as I’m fond of saying, “I know people.” Work is moving pretty fast; I get the impression they’ve almost accepted me. And I’m scheduled to work 36 hours this week—almost full time. Now, I have to fit the Private Life into that. I can do it if I do the same thing I do at work—never stop moving. Rest was for when I was unemployed. There is no rest any more. In addition to work, there’s a city budget meeting Monday evening before work (and I’m on the Urban Renewal Board now and have to be there), band practice Tuesday evening, and I can fit in a square dance practice Wednesday evening if we’re done before 8:00. Big gig is Friday evening. Whew. Joe